X High School: Terror in the Halls
by Jack Cross
Summary: Time has passed, both Ingrid and Fillmore are in high school now. But trouble strikes as Folsom is attacked and a pair of brothers start an uprising. It's the toughest assignment they've revived yet, and Fillmore will have to call an old friend for help.
1. The Beginning, Act One

**I do not own Fillmore! Only a few people and concepts is all, nothing else. Please review and let me know what you think. **

Act One: Just the beginning.

Cornelius Fillmore sat at his desk, his chin resting in his palm as he slept. He jerked slightly when a boot made contact with his desk, causing it to jolt and send a ripple through his fish bowl.

"Sleeping on the job again?" asked Ingrid Third as she sat in her own desk.

"Maybe," came the reply as he rubbed under his glasses, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

"You've been working too hard," said Ingrid as she started to type on her computer.

"I know. You got anything to eat? I'm starved." Ingrid rolled her eyes as she reached into her desk and pull out a plastic bag full of sunflower seeds before tossing them to Fillmore.

"Thanks," he said as he tore the bag open and started to eat on the seeds, shell and all.

"Fillmore! Third! You two are on protection duty for Ms. Folsom!" shouted Jr. Commissioner Vallejo out of his office door. Both partners sighed and stood.

"Can you believe she got promoted to cover both the middle AND high schools?" asked Ingrid as they made their way into the hall.

"I know, and I wanted a moment of peace before I graduated," replied Fillmore as they approached the entrance to the school. Both the Principal and Vice Principal were climbing out of the small version of a limo. Safety Patrol officers stood around the car, looking like Secret Service agents in teen clothes with orange sashes. All of a sudden, the cracks of what sounded like gunshots rang out and echoed down the hallway. Folsom threw up her left hand as she fell; the vice principal also fell as he attempted to protect her.

"Oh Crackers!" said Ingrid as they both ran forward to help. The various safety patrol officers rushed to form a perimeter around the unconscious principal and vice principal.

"This is Fillmore, we have shots fired on the south side of the high school! Both the Principal and Vice Principal are down! Repeat, both Principal Folsom and Vice Principal Raycliff are down!" Fillmore shouted into his walkie-talkie. Ingrid looked up to the surrounding rooftops and spotted a figure disappear from sight.

"Fillmore," she said, pointing up to the roof. Fillmore motioned with his hand, telling her to go check it out. As Ingrid hurried away, Vallejo and a few others rushed out the door.

"What the hell is going on here!" he shouted over the crowd as he pushed his way through the small crowd. Fillmore was knelling next to both of the victims, inspecting the wounds.

"Hit by paintballs, both of them," he said simply as he looked up at the Jr. Commissioner. Slowly, Raycliff came around and started to stand. But Folsom was still out like a shattered light bulb.

"Alright people, lets get them into the HQ, lets go!" shouted Vallejo. Almost instantly, several of the officers rushed to carry the Principal into the school. Vallejo himself escorted the Vice Principal while Fillmore remained behind and looked over the car.

"How are they doing?" asked Ingrid as she walked approached the car, her gloved hand holding something.

"Raycliff came around after a few minutes, but Folsom, she's still out," he replied as he looked over the inside of the limo.

"I found some canisters up on the roof, looks like the standard power for a small paintball gun, probably a pistol," she said. Fillmore settled on the open door that the principal had stepped out of a few minutes before.

"Those shots were a little too accurate for a pistol at that range," he said as he focused on a red splatter dot on the inside of the door.

"I don't get it. Those were paintballs, Folsom shouldn't have gone down like that," said Ingrid as she studied the spot.

"Maybe there was something mixed in with the paint," said Fillmore as he stepped out of the limo and walked into the school, Ingrid hurrying to catch up. The safety patrol's headquarters was filled with a lot more activity, especially compared to the way it had been left ten minutes ago.

"Hey Tehama, has the paint been wiped off of the Principal yet?" asked Fillmore.

"Not yet," came the reply.

"Can you get a sample? There may be something mixed in with the paint," said Ingrid as she tossed the canisters to her. The young forensics officer hurried off into Vallejo's office while the two partners crossed to their desks.

"I know that look. What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that this may not be the end of it, something big is going down out there," he said.

"Overview, is the deed done?" crackled the voice over Alexi's radio. The young blonde haired teen rolled his eyes slightly as he lowered the binoculars and picked up his radio.

"Da. It's done," he said, his Russian accent sounding out of place for his features.

"Good. Phase One is complete, return to base and prepare for Phase Two," said the voice before the radio cracked and went silent. Sighing, Alexi stood and picked up his gear before shooting a last glance at the safety patrol's office window. One of the officers, a black kid with a green t-shirt and glasses was closing the blinds.

"What's wrong?" asked Ingrid as Fillmore closed the blinds.

"Got a feeling, like we're being watched," came the reply. The sound of the phone ringing in the Jr. Commissioner's office reached their ears, but Fillmore ignored it as he peaked through the blinds and studied the area outside.

"Fillmore, Third, you should hear this," called Danny from the doorway to the office. They both made their way into office and stood around the phone while Vallejo put it on speaker.

"Commissioner's office," he said simply.

"Ah Commissioner, judging by the way the Headquarters of the Safety Patrol is locked down tighter then a high security prison, I assume you have the good Ms. Folsom in there," said an electronic distorted voice. The young Commissioner shot a look at the sleeping principal.

"I'm not authorized to answer that," he said.

"Of coarse your not. Now listen to me very well Commissioner, you suspend officers Fillmore and Third immediately or I'll set off a gas bomb in the cafeteria during lunch and seal all the doors, am I understood?"

"Yes."

"Good, we'll be in touch soon," said the voice before the click of the phone hanging up sounded. Vallejo sighed before he faced the two partners and held out his hand.

"Vallejo you can't do this man," said Fillmore in protest.

"Fillmore, Third, you two are the best I got. But I can't risk some nut setting off a bomb of any kind anywhere in the school."

"You do this and he'll do whatever he wants," said Ingrid.

"Guys, with everything that's happened, this is the absolute last thing I want to do. But if this guys watching us, I gotta make it look like I did what he wanted," he said. Both Fillmore and Ingrid took off their sashes and handed them over along with their badges.

"I'll keep you two in the loop, and hopefully you'll be able to come back and get this guy," he said.

"Sure man, sure," said Fillmore as he and Ingrid walked out of the office.

"What's the plan?" asked Ingrid as they stepped out into the hallway. Fillmore sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.

"We find out who the guy is that did this to Ms. Folsom, and we bring him down before he can do anything else." They walked down the hall and stepped out into the sunlight. The limo had been moved already, and the scene looked bare and normal like it did before.

"Well, it's like you said, this is just the beginning," said Ingrid.

"Disco!" said Fillmore, coming to a sudden stop.

"What?"

"I know the perfect person for the job, follow me."


	2. The Beginning, Act Two

**As always, please review and let me know what you think. **

Act Two: Old Friends, Dangerous Enemies.

"Hit by paintballs? And out like a light? Are you one hundred **percent** sure Fillmore?" asked Fillmore's friend over the speaker of the phone in the janitor's office.

"I saw it happen with my own eyes right in front of me man, yes I'm one hundred percent sure," replied Fillmore. Ingrid shot him a glance as she was twirling her lunch card through her fingers and leaning against the door, keeping watch. The sound of papers being shifted and muttered curses came through the phone.

"Alright listen very closely, as I'm sure you've guessed this is no ordinary prank. Do NOT go back to your HQ and do not speak of what I'm telling you to anyone but yourselves. Find some place to hole up and stay there, I'm gonna be there as fast as I can," said his friend.

"Dale, man what..?"

"There's no time Fillmore! These guys are the best at what they do, and what they do is raise hell until anarchy grips their target. Right now X High School is their next target, so for the love of God find some place to hole up and I'll be there as soon as possible," interrupted his friend before the phone clicked.

"That went well," said Ingrid. Fillmore snorted.

"You're telling me." They quickly returned the janitor's closet to the way it was before they set out into the hallway. It was hard to believe that just that morning they had been expecting another boring day. Instead it seemed that they had stumbled into the middle of a conspiracy. Taking his friend's advice, Fillmore led them into a small crook behind a stairway. Hidden there were some snacks, a few books, and some few magazines.

"What is this?" asked Ingrid as she looked over the hiding place.

"I always have an emergency stash hidden somewhere," came the reply with a grin. Ingrid grabbed a book and started to flip through the pages, using her photographic memory to read.

"So when is your friend suppose to get here?" she asked.

"About thirty minutes," said Fillmore as he picked a magazine and flipped through the pages. They both sat and read for a while before Ingrid finally set her book to the side.

"Hey Fillmore?" she asked.

"Yea?"

"I got a question to ask you," she said, ringing her hands in nervousness.

"Spill it," said Fillmore, slightly curious.

"Well," Ingrid started, but stopped when a short series of taps came from around the corner. Fillmore stepped forward and knocked back. A young man with an unshaven face and thick brown hair stepped into view.

"Your late," said Fillmore as he looked at his phone. Ingrid looked at her own phone and was surprised to see that forty-five minutes had already passed.

"If you didn't have so many damn hiding places I would have been here sooner," replied Dale as he knuckle bumped Fillmore.

"Dale Jonas, Ingrid Third," he said, making introductions. The two stepped forward and shook hands before an uneasy silence came over them.

"So what are we dealing with?" asked Ingrid. Dale reached into his pack and pulled out two folders before he opened both of them.

"Fillmore, if what you told me is true, then there are only two culprits: two men, or brothers as it so happens. Alec and Alexi Takorov," he said, tapping one file, then the other. Ingrid picked up Alexi's file, while Fillmore took Alec's.

"So what's so special about these two?" asked Fillmore as he looked over the file.

"Well, they were good at one time. Got good grades and stayed out of trouble, that is until they transferred Johnson High School," he said. Ingrid looked up from her file.

"I heard about that place, didn't it practically get torn apart by rivalries?" she asked.

"Not just rivalries, whole damn place was in a civil war. And it was the perfect training ground for the Takorov brothers. They mainly specialized in infiltration and sabotage, until they figured out how to make money. After they left Johnson, every school they went to began to experience some sort of craziness and changes in power in the underground. But over time, it wasn't about the money anymore, and they've chosen X High to broadcast their message to the world."

"What exactly is their message?" asked Fillmore.

"That anyone, even minors, can create anarchy," finished Dale.

* * *

"Alexi! Come. Sit. Drink," said Alec as he motioned for his brother to sit next to him. Alexi crossed the old run down parlor and sat next to his brother. Picking up a glass bottle with a clear liquid in it, Alec poured some in two glasses.

"Some water I managed to get imported from Switzerland," he said as he passed a glass to Alexi. The two raised their glasses.

"To former comrades," said Alexi as before they drank. They drank in honestly before they sat back.

"Soon, brother, we shall have our glorious time," said Alec. Alexi sighed slightly.

"About that," he started. Alec glanced at his brother.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. Alexi shook his head.

"Nothing." Alec nodded slightly in approval.

"Is Phase Two ready?" he called.

"Da!"

"Activate!"

* * *

A scream imitated from upstairs, causing all three to look at the ceiling above them.

"What's that?" asked Ingrid.

"My guess is that the Takorovs are at it again," said Dale as he rushed to pack up the files. They sprinted up stairs and looked over the various Safety Patrol Officers, many of them were woozy or knocked out.

"Vallejo! What happened!" called Fillmore as he picked his way through the crowd.

"Someone set off a Nitrous Oxide bomb in the HQ," Vallejo coughed. Ingrid waved her hand in front of her face.

"Who would use laughing gas in a bomb?" she asked. Dale pulled his shirt up over his nose and ventured a little ways into the contaminated area outside of the headquarters.

"Its Phase Two," he said as he returned to the small group.

"Of?"

"An old Anarchist plan. Phase One: Eliminate the local leader. Phase Two: Leave the local law enforcement with out a base of operations. Phase Three: Issue weapons to the Underground and start an uprising," said Dale.

"Oh snap," said Fillmore as he looked over the contaminated zone.


	3. The Beginning, Act Three

**As always, please review and let me know what you think. **

**A/N: This concludes what would be Episode 1, if it had placed on television, so please enjoy and stick around for the next one.  
**

Act Three: No Threat is Empty.

The heavy gasp of air sounded as Fillmore, Ingrid, and Dale made their way into the Safety Patrol Headquarters. Each one wore a black gas mask with a wide glass visor over their faces. They slowly made their way through the office, double checking every inch for evidence.

"So Dale, how do you know so much about these brothers?" Fillmore asked, his voice muffled and distorted by the mask.

"I've spent just about every single moment since I joined the force trying to catch them," came the reply.

"You sound like it's more then just the job that making you chase them," said Ingrid. Dale nodded slightly.

"We have a history," he said. Ingrid shot a glance at Fillmore.

"Care to share it?" she asked. Dale came to a halt, staring at a cabinet in front of them.

"Later," he said as he hurried over to the cabinet. Opening the metal door, they found two large silver canisters duck taped together with small white vapors coming off of it.

"These guys don't mess around," said Fillmore, as he looked the bomb over.

"There's enough Nitrous Oxide in these things to keep HQ contaminated for weeks," said Ingrid as she inspected the canisters closer. Dale stepped back from the cabinet and looked around the room.

"Team One to HQ," he said into the gas mask's microphone.

"HQ, go ahead."

"We've located the package, its in the cabinet in the northeast corner," he said.

"10-4, 14:48." Looking back at the canisters, Dale took a step closer.

"Ah, Agent Carson, its been to long," said a disembodied voice. All three looked at the bomb closer before spotting a small web camera.

"Alec," came Dale's unhappy reply. A chuckle came from the canisters.

"Cornelius Fillmore, still stealing objects of value from various school clubs I see," said the voice.

"I don't know you man, and I don't know what you're talking about," said Fillmore. Another chuckle emanated from the speakers.

"Oh, I know everything about you, and you as well Ms. Third. How was Nepal by the way? Did you climb Mt. Everest?" Ingrid took a step towards the canisters, but stopped when Dale placed his hand on her shoulder.

"This has nothing to do with them, Alec. Pack up and head out of here, no one else has to get hurt," said Dale.

"Keep the demands to yourself Agent Carson, or the next bomb I set off will have Nitrogen instead of laughing gas, and you'll need to borrow more powerful masks from the dive team," said the voice, any sign of humor gone. Dale clenched his jaw, which was hard to make out while he wore the mask. Fillmore glanced back behind them and noticed several figures standing there.

"Now then, if you three would please walk with these gentleman, there is so much to discuss," said the voice. The three of them turned. Standing in a straight line, each one of the figures wore standard issued Russian gas masks, with two eyeholes and green filters hanging over where the mouth would be. With a grand total of six in all, they looked like something out of a horror film with a virus. Each one of them held a paintball rifle, aiming them at the three.

"Oh snap," said Fillmore as he started to raise his hands, along closely by Ingrid. But Dale remained unfazed, rather taking a step back toward the bomb.

"Halt!" shouted one of the figures, and dale obeyed the order.

"Fillmore, Third, we've had to pull the sanitation line back several rooms out in the hallway with the gas, what's the situation?" came Vallejo's voice over the speakers that had inside their masks.

"We're compromised," said Fillmore in reply. A wave of static came over the radio and for a moment all was silent. But Dale suddenly reached into the cabinet and grabbed one of the canisters. With a grunt, he tore the canister away from its twin and hurled it at their holders. The large silver cylinder landed with a clang and slid across the floor before coming to a halt at their feet. Instantly the room was filled with action as the Anarchists scrambled over each other to get away from it. Seeing the opportunity, all three of them sprinted across the room and out into the hallway.

"I assume your going to tell us what that was about," said Ingrid as they sprinted through the hall. Yellow paint smacked against the lockers and walls as paintballs flew over their heads.

"Later," came the reply as they ran for the sanitation line ahead. The pursuers behind them slid to a halt and fired off a few more bursts before turning and heading back deeper into the contaminated zone. As they crossed the line, all three of them tore off their masks and took deep breaths, trying to recover from the sprint.

"Alec Takorov is many things, and cheap is defiantly one of them. Those masks they wore, you can get them of the Internet for fifteen to twenty bucks, and the filters don't make the air you breath one hundred percent pure," Dale explained as he bent over and began to paint.

"That's why you threw the canister at them, cause they were breathing lower doses of Nitrous Oxide," said Fillmore. Dale nodded again as Vallejo came out into the hall. He looked over the orange tape they had just torn through and decided to ignore it for the time being.

He simply motioned for the three to follow him back into the room he had just exited. The classroom was the Safety Patrol's Forward Operating Base, what with the HQ being filled with the gas. Shouts and messages ran all over the room like crazy, but he led them though like Moses through the Red Sea. They walked into a small office where Vice Principal Raycliff sat.

"Fillmore, Third, with Folsom being in her current state of comatose and leaving me as acting Principal, I'm placing you two off of suspension and placing on this case permanently," he said as he quickly wrote something down on a pad of paper.

"I don't care what it costs or how much class time you have to miss, find whosever responsible and bring them in," he finished. Both of them nodded before being dismissed and walking out of the room.

"Are you two ready for this?" asked Dale as they stepped back out into the hallway a moment later.

"This isn't our first case Dale," said Fillmore.

"This also isn't some middle school punk who steals chalk for a living either Fillmore, these guys are pros, and they'll send someone to the hospital if they need to," replied Dale as turned and began to walk up the hallway. Ingrid hurried to catch up with him and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Everything will be fine," she said. But the look in Dale's eyes made her mood sink.

"If I were you Ingrid, I'd tell someone how I felt right now, cause you may not get to for quite a while," he said, motioning towards Fillmore. Ingrid watched him go after for a moment before she turned and walked back to her partner and friend.

"You wanna go get a bite to eat?" she asked with a nervous grin on her face.


	4. Hunted and Hunters, Act One

**As always, please review and let me know what you think.**

Act One: Assassins in the Night.

"So Dale, what's the secret behind the paintballs? Why do they knock people out the way they do?" asked Fillmore. He, Ingrid, and Dale were sitting in the local Chinese restaurant. Dale bit into an egg roll before he answered, his eyes switching between the door and his friend.

"The Takorovs mixed some sort of toxin in with them with color deciding the amount of the toxin, it only takes a single red one with direct contact with the skin to knock someone out for a week," he said.

"Principal Folsom got hit with four or five of those," said Ingrid, shock in her voice and visible in her eyes. Dale smiled and pointed his fork at her while looking at Fillmore.

"You got yourself a smart one here Fillmore, not bad looking either, I'd hang on to her if I were you," he said before he returned his attention to his food. Ingrid blushed slightly and looked at her food, avoiding eye contact with Fillmore. But Fillmore's face remained unreadable.

This was a trait Dale was familiar with, as he had tangled with him more then once before he had gone straight. Even after Fillmore had started down the path of good, it still helped him win poker games in the off time. Their friendship had grown over the years to the point of where they shared information on a regular basis. But one thing Dale had never talked about was his time fighting against the Takorovs.

The most he had stated about his time in service was the mentioning of a girl by the name of Tara. From what Fillmore could tell, Tara had been Dale's one and only love interest. But judging by what he had been told about the brothers, something horrible may have happened to her.

* * *

Vallejo approached the front door of his house. After the few days he had, he was looking forward to the weekend spent fishing with his father. As he started up the steeps, his ears caught the sound of someone approaching on the sidewalk behind him. Turning, he noticed a dark figure standing at the end of the small walkway leading to the stairs.

"Can I help you?" he asked, walking down the steps slightly, but not stepping completely off of them. The figure approached slowly, with its hand in a pocket of its duster.

"Commissioner Vallejo?" the figure asked in a hushed voice with a Russian accent.

"Yeah, who's askin'?"

"Alexi Takorov," Alexi answered before he pulled out a revolver shaped paintball gun. With a single hiss of released gas, he fired a red paintball and hit Vallejo in the middle of the forehead, dropping the Commissioner instantly.

Stepping forward slightly, Alexi looked over the fallen teen to be sure that he was truly knocked out. Satisfied, he turned and walked away like nothing had happened. But he was still looking at the paintball gun, questions burning in his mind.

"Brother, I hope what we do is truly right," he whispered to no one in particular as he placed the gun back into his coat.

After all, he had more targets to attend to tonight.

* * *

Ingrid stood and stretched slightly, excusing herself before she walked out of the restaurant. Fillmore watched for a moment before returning his attention to Dale.

"What do you think will happen next?" he asked. Dale leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment before taking a sip of his drink.

"The first thing I learned when going up against these guys is that they are completely unpredictable. They are the absolute masters of their domain, and they do not mess around," he replied. Fillmore leaned forward on the table, unsure of what to do for one of the rare times in his carrier.

His phone suddenly went off in his pocket. After answering it in a usual motion, he remained silent for at least two minutes. Dale watched him with interest. Even though the glasses hid Fillmore's eyes, he could tell that something was very wrong. With a smooth motion, Fillmore hung up the phone and sat it on the table.

"Vallejo and at least three other Safety Patrol officers in the area have been attacked, all within the past twenty minutes," he said. Dale's eyes went wide before he shot to his feet and ran out the door. Grabbing up his phone, Fillmore ran to keep up as Dale led the way though the dark streets.

Coming to an intersection, Dale slid to a halt and looked franticly in all directions while Fillmore finally caught up.

"Which way is Third's house?" Dale asked almost franticly. Fillmore pointed down the street to their right, still not quite understanding what was going on. Taking off again, Dale led the way. They dogged trashcans and light polls before they finally spotted Ingrid under a light post ahead of them.

She was looking around like she had heard movement from somewhere in the shadows. Dale didn't doubt this as he drew a paintball pistol from a hip holster. Running forward with the gun held at the ready, he scanned the shadows for anything out of the ordinary.

"Ingrid, get out of the light!" Fillmore shouted as they approached. Ingrid spun around in a circle, slightly confused about what was going on. Then she spotted a figure rise up nearby and level an object at her. Acting on pure instinct, she dove to the side just as the figure fired.

Dale leveled his own weapon and fired two quick shots, clipping the figure in both the arm and kneecap. While Fillmore ran to Ingrid, Dale ran to the figure and pointed his gun.

"Shoot me, Carlson, finish the job you started," said the figure. Dale reached down and grabbed the figure. He dragged him into the light and tossed him down.

"You guys should here this," Dale said to Fillmore and Ingrid, who were comforting each other nearby. The two made their way over and looked down at the figure. Dale grabbed the figure's hair and held his head up, reviling his face.

"I present you with Alexi Takorov," he said simply.

"Your making a mistake Carlson, you should finish me off and remove me from the situation completely. At least that way you could have hindered my brother's plans." They looked at each other before returning their attention to Alexi.

"What's his plan?" asked Ingrid, concern in her voice.

"Alec has placed a bounty out on all your heads, the entire underground will be coming after you," he replied. Dale grabbed him up and stuck his gun in the teen's ribs.

"I look forward to every moment," he said.


	5. Hunted and Hunters, Act Two

**As always, please review and let me know what you think. **

Act two: Who's really in charge?

"And in conclusion, the Battle of Waterloo was the defining moment in which Napoleon was defeated," said the teacher as he pointed to a map. The rest of the class-looked board and on the verge of falling asleep, many of them resting their chins on the palms of their hands.

The door suddenly burst open, followed closely by Alexi bounding into the room at a full sprint. His hands were held behind him as ran, bound by a pair of handcuffs. Behind him came Dale, drawing his pistol, which highly resembled an FNS 9. Taking quick aim, he fired a single shot.

A light blue color smacked into Alexi's left shoulder, causing him to stumble and smash into the classroom window. The fugitive slowly slid town the window, leaving a faint trail of saliva behind on the glass.

"Sorry 'bout that, please continue," Dale said, giving the pistol a slight twirl as he returned it to his holster. The teacher attempted to return to his lesson as Dale hosted Alexi to his feet and dragged him out of the room. The trip back to the temporary HQ of the safety patrol took relatively short time.

"They always run," said Ingrid as Dale slammed Alexi down into a chair. Pulling out a key and a second pair of handcuffs, Dale redid the prisoner's bindings so that both of his wrists were chained to the chair.

"So how are things going here?" he asked.

"Bad man, bad. The safety patrol is understaffed and now the whole school knows it," Fillmore replied. Dale took a seat next to Alexi, who was still groggy thanks to the paintball. Taking out a piece of red licorice, he placed his feet up on Ingrid's desk and took a bite.

"Well you two have been here longer then I have, which groups are more likely to act up now that we can't be everywhere at once?" he asked. Ingrid gave him a slightly annoyed look.

"Could be anyone that has a grudge against us," Fillmore answered. Dale paused for a moment, taking another bite at the licorice.

"What about the local vigilante group?" he asked. Both Ingrid and Fillmore looked at each other.

"There is no vigilante group in the school," said Ingrid. Dale cocked an eyebrow before leaving the last bit of licorice to sit in his mouth like a cigarette.

"You sure about that?" he asked.

"Well there has been one or two suspects active in the past, but never a group and never on a scale big enough to be a threat to the safety patrol," said Fillmore. Chewing on the licorice some more, Dale scratched beneath his chin in thought.

"I'm going to tell you two something that only a select few in all safety patrols have known," he said.

"Yes?" Ingrid asked. A few moments of silence followed.

"Every school has a vigilante group, and they're all interconnected. You ever noticed that someone's bike tire just happened to pop while you were chasing them? Or a boat that just happens to run out of fuel?" he said. The two partners shot a glance at each other.

"I always attributed it to luck on our part," said Fillmore.

"Oh it's luck alright, but not in the way you would think. You two were lucky that the vigilantes decided to help you. But now with Vallejo and half the patrol down, I got a feeling that the luck is about to run out," Dale said.

"So. Does this group of vigilantes have a name?" Ingrid asked. Dale ate what was left of his licorice stick before he spoke.

"Their overall name is The Dogs. The full name differs from school to school, sometimes its Stray Dogs, sometimes its Watch Dogs, and sometimes its Guard Dogs. The Dogs are, at best, helpful to the various patrols. But when things go south, they can just as easily turn against the patrols," he replied. Ingrid blinked a few times in surprise at this.

"Well this is new. Not only does it turn out we have our own guardian angles, but they can turn on us at a moments notice," she said.

"Snap," Fillmore added. The door to the HQ suddenly flew open, followed closely by five figures wearing hoodies. They had their hoods up, and black bandanas covering their noses and mouths. A sixth, the leader, wore a baseball cap and a bandana. Each one of them held a paintball pistol.

"Hands to heaven, noises in the dirt ladies and gentleman!" shouted the one wearing the ball cap.

"Speak of the devil," muttered Dale as his hand slid down to grip his own gun. He froze though when he felt the muzzle of one of the paintball guns pressed into the base of his head.

"Uh uh uh, none of that Belt. I'll take that," said one of the gunmen. With a clenched jaw, he allowed the gun to be slid from his holster. The trio watched as Alexi was unchained from the chair and haled to his feet.

"Thank you for your cooperation and keep up the good work," said the ball cap as the six, plus Alexi, exited the room. Instantly, Dale was out of his seat and racing toward his gun, which had been tossed to the side.

"Ingrid!" said Fillmore, tossing her a copy of a snub nose .38. Dale had taken the time to insure that both Fillmore and Ingrid were properly armed and defended since Alec had put out a bounty on their heads. The trio then proceeded to race out of the HQ, going after the vigilantes.


End file.
